


Five scenarios Francis Lovell never lived through, and one he did

by MichisAccount



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichisAccount/pseuds/MichisAccount
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis Lovell`s life could have gone many ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1465

Possibility 1: The Earl of Warwick accepts Edward IV`s suggestion of marrying his oldest daughter Isabel to Richard of Gloucester and his younger daughter Anne to Francis Lovell.

 

His new clothes felt awkward, despite the fine fabric it had been made of and the fashionable cut they had. His new leather shoes pinched.

All in all, Francis felt extremely uncomfortable, and he struggled not to let it show, to smile as was expected of him. This was not made easy by the fact he knew that not only were the earl and his countess watching intently but so were Richard and his new wife Isabel - and Richard, who had been so matter-of-fact during his own wedding a week ago, would be unlike to let him forget showing any trepidation -, his mother and sisters as well, Richard`s mother and the king himself.

It really was rather daunting.

Francis glanced at Anne to see if she, too, was at least a bit excited, but if she was, she did not let it on, smiling at everyone as if this occasion was nothing out of the ordinary. And perhaps it was not; it was, after all, only a wedding. But this thought did nothing to calm him, not when he had heard for weeks now how important it would be for him to become Anne`s husband. The earl had beamed when he had told him, saying he was proud to be able to call him his son soon, though Francis was not certain if he had been sincere. His mother had been delighted as well when she had arrived at Middleham, talking about how lucky he was to call both the earl himself as well as the king`s youngest brother his close kinsmen from now on.

Even the king himself, who had come to see Richard`s wedding, had slapped him on the shoulder and told him he would make his young cousin a great husband, and she would make him a good wife.

Francis thought that while this might perhaps be true one day, it would be helpful to know what was even expected of him as husband. He knew exactly what to do during the actual wedding ceremony - it was not as if he had not been told countless times, and in any case, it was hardly challenging - but as far as he could tell, not much would change afterwards.

He had even asked Richard last evening, but despite his week`s worth of marital experience, the duke had not been helpful at all.

He had asked Anne too, but she had only shrugged, telling him they would figure it out sooner or later. “My lord father says we will only have to live as man and wife in some years”, she had said. “I will have learned what I need to be a wife and run your household by then.”

Francis had little doubt that was true. He had little doubt Anne would be a good wife, if she put her mind to it. He just had doubt he would be a good husband when he had no idea what that meant.

But as Anne took his hand while they walked to the chapel, under the watchful eyes of all the lords, ladies and nobles around - Francis was almost certain he heard one of the ladies coo - he was glad that it since he already had to marry, it was Anne he had to be a husband to, not someone else.


	2. 1470

Possibility 2: Edward IV loses the Battle of Barnet and his life together with his brother Richard of Gloucester.

His father-in-law Henry was beaming, but Francis struggled to understand the implications of his words, the reality of it all. King - the pretender Edward of York was dead, had been slain in battle. “God`s justice has been served”, Henry said. “The usurper has gone to hell, and the true royal blood of England does once again rule.”

His wife smiled widely, but Francis could not bring himself to. Edward was the only king he truly remembered, and he had heard enough about old He - King Henry VI to have grave doubts that he was suited to rule the country. And his son - he knew nothing about his son.

He was not feeling happy at all, and when he finally found his voice to speak, it was not to announce his approval, though that was doubtlessly expected of him, but to ask: “What - what about Edward`s brother?”

Anna threw him a curious glance, but Henry frowned at him. “The usurper`s brother?”, he asked sharply. “I do not know how that concerns you, my son.” “I - am simply interested”, Francis murmured. “I did know -”

Henry made an impatient noise, cutting him off. “George of Clarence will be spared for his treason, though doubtlessly he would deserve to end on the block. However, my brother the earl has decided to be merciful, as he is wed to his daughter Isabel.” He snorted. “Knowing Clarence, he will sooner or later face the axe for some other crime, so there is probably no reason to worry.”

Francis nodded, but in reality, he had little interest in Clarence. “And - Ed- the usurper`s youngest brother?”, he questioned after a short moment, and Henry`s frown deepened. “You are unduly interested in traitors, my son”, he responded, and for a moment, Francis feared he would not get an answer, before Henry went on: “He died in battle with his brother. Bravely, they said, as far as York`s little whelp can be brave.”

He went on, but Francis no longer listened. Richard was dead. The man who had been his closest friend for years. Who had sneaked him letters even when he had already been in the care of men who tried to kill his brother.

Who had succeeded in killing his brother. And him too.

Francis swallowed. It could not be. The last time he had seen Richard in person, he had been so happy, speaking about the birth of his children. And what would happen to them now?

He would have to work out some way he could support them, even though his father-in-law controlled most of his money.

And Richard -

“I would wish to pray”, he brought out after a moment, and Henry nodded. “A prayer of thanks would be most fitting now”, he said. “I shall have a bonfire lit this evening.”

But as Francis, doing his best not to stumble and let his thoughts on, left his presence, he did not think of bonfires at all. He wanted to pray for Richard. He would need to have masses read for him, too.

If only Edward had won instead of Henry.


	3. 1481

Possibility 3: Francis Lovell is critically injured in the skirmishes at the Scottish border and rendered unable to ever fight again.

 

When Francis awoke, he felt extremely cold, and for a moment, he could not remember where he was. His surrounding were rather dirty, and the bed in which he lay was hard and rather uncomfortable. The blanket that lay over him barely held off the cold and his left foot throbbed badly.

For a moment, he was entirely confused.

Then the memories returned, if somewhat fuzzily. There had been another attack of the Scots, an unexpected one, during the night. He remembered rushing out of his tent, remembered fighting, Richard barking orders, and the triumphant yell of a Scot as he put a sword through his foot. Remembered his own momentary panic, the certainty that he was dead.

Clearly, he had survived, though judging by the pain in his foot, rather badly injured. He had probably passed out from the pain, and had been treated - but he was not in the surgeon`s tent. He was - was this Richard`s tent?

“How-?”, he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, but as he did so, a voice behind him exclaimed: “Lord Lovell!” and a face that seemed vaguely familiar to him came into view. “Lord Lovell, are you awake?”

What a stupid question. “No, I`m sleeping”, he answered tetchily, and the man, whoever he was, grimaced. “Excuse me, my lord. I have been instructed by the duke to inform him immediately when you awake, but you gave signs of doing so several times that last few days without actually waking up. I am relieved you are conscious now.

What -?!

“Days?”, Francis asked, voice rather hoarse, as the man - who was probably a physician - turned and barked at someone to find the Duke of Gloucester immediately. “What - how -?” “You were injured, my lord”, he then said, turning back to him. “Your foot -” He trailed off, and Francis suddenly felt worried. What was wrong? In his experience, physicians were happy to talk about the most disgusting things at great length, so what had happened that this man suddenly did not want to say it? “What about it?”, he questioned, and the man sighed. “We could not save it, my lord. It would have killed you.”

“WHAT?!” Francis shot up in bed, but a wave of dizziness overcame him and he had to lie back down. “You did what?!” “It was a dangerous operation, especially under the circumstances”, the physician answered. “But it went well.” “Well?!” Francis could not believe it. “What are you telling me? I can feel my foot!”

The man nodded. “That often does happen, though no one can explain why. I think it is because God does want you to be aware of the full body he gave you.”

Francis stared at him. “That is the stupidest explanation I have ever heard”, he then said, his anger overriding his shock at what he had heard. “I`ve had bad teeth drawn, and never felt them afterwards. I don`t know what you are telling me, but -”

“Francis!” The shout interrupted him, and both he and the physician turned to the flap of the tent, through which Richard came running in. Ignoring the physician, he went straight to Francis. “You`re awake. Praised be the lord.”

Francis looked at his friend. He seemed genuinely relieved. Did that mean that - “This man has been telling me he amputated my foot”, he said. “He claims - “ But he stopped at the look on Richard`s face. “It`s true?!”

“I`m afraid so”, the duke said. “The wound was - bad. You wouldn`t have been able to use the foot again, and it seemed like to turn gangrenous.”

The physician had spoken the truth. He had actually lost his foot. He would never be able to walk properly again. He -

“Dick saved your life”, Richard said, cutting through his thoughts. “He was just behind you when it happened, and took your attacker by surprise.” He paused shortly, and his voice became hard. “He injured him so he could be taken prisoner. We had him hanged the next day.”

“Hanged?” Francis was feeling more and more confused again. “Why did Dick not simply -” “He thought you were dying”, Richard said shortly. “So did I. I wasn`t going to let your killer have an easy death.”

Francis processed this for a moment, then nodded. “And - why am I here?”, he then asked, hesitantly, at which Richard grinned. “You made such a racket in the surgeon`s tent, cursing the Scots and the surgeons that you rather disturbed everyone. In any case, I figured it`d be more comfortable here.”

“Yes …” Francis swallowed, then said: “I won`t be able to fight any more if - if -” “No.” Richard said. “But I`ll have you made the best prothesis anyone can make, and you will be able to walk again. And my brother is very generous to those injured in his service.”

“I -” But Francis could not think of anything to say, and it was left to Richard to say: “Don`t be worried about it, you`re frightening enough even without your foot. My surgeon for one was very relieved to be rid of you in his tent.” Then his face set, the smile falling away. “And trust me - I will make the Scots suffer for this and all else they have done to us.”


	4. 1487

Possibility 4: John de la Pole and Francis Lovell win the Battle of Stoke, and Cecily Neville encounters Francis when paying respects to her dead son in Leicester.

 

When the messenger from her grandson John had come, with a kind letter from him and the information that her youngest son`s mortal remains would be conveyed from Leicester to a proper grave next to his wife in London, she had thought that she could not stand joining the procession. Too fresh in her mind were the memories of a similar journey a bit more than a decade ago, of accompanying her husband and her son Edmund to their final resting place.

She could not imagine going through all this again, for her youngest son, and for a while, she had been tempted to tell John she would come to see Richard`s grave in London. That she could not join the procession.

But Richard deserved to have her come, and so, despite feeling she would not be able to bear it, she had sent her grandson a short note saying she would join him in Leicester, and, within only a few days, had fulfilled her promise and arrived in the city.

John greeted her with delight. “It does me good to see you”, he said after raising her up when she curtseyed to him. “Please do not humble yourself to me, my lady grandmother. I am your grandson before I am your king.”

At these words, Cecily had felt her eyes fill with tears. Richard had said something similar the last time she had seen him, a bit more than two years ago. Richard, who had been less than ten years older than John was now.

Richard, who had been killed.

She swallowed, but then squared her shoulders and asked after John`s well-being and that of his mother and father, enquired after the battle that had won John the kingship and had defeated her son`s murderer. She even asked about the execution of her son`s murderer, but even hearing how he had died had not made her feel better. Richard was gone.

She tried to take some consolation in the fact that he would get to lie next to the wife he had loved now, and suddenly, she felt an urge to see him. To see his coffin, to pray by its side alone, the way she had not been able for Edmund and her husband.

John seemed to understand, for he simply nodded when Cecily announced her wish and ordered some men to escort her. “I - have given orders for him to be treated with all the respect due to my uncle and the rightful king”, he said when she curtseyed to him again. “He -”

”I know what happened to him”, Cecily interrupted him, quietly. “I know exactly, and - I am very glad Tudor is dead.”

John simply nodded to that, telling her he would give orders that no one should be allowed to enter the abbey while she was there, paying respects to Richard. Cecily was grateful for this, and as she approached the building soon afterwards, she therefore expected she would be alone with her dead son.

But as soon as she was escorted into the chapel after having been greeted effusively by the abbot of the monastry, she heard that she had been mistaken. Someone was in the chapel, murmuring quietly, and she turned to the monk, raising her eyebrows. “I have been told I would be alone, my lord?”

The man gave her an apologetic look. “I am very sorry, my lady. I - the Lord Lovell has been in here all day, and -” He trailed off, began again. “When your son, King Richard of blessed memory, died, he - we could not give him -” “I know that”, Cecily interrupted him. “I fail to see what it has to do with your failure to keep up my grandson the king´s promise to allow me some private moments to pray at my son`s coffin.”

The abbot looked even more awkward, but after a moment, said: “The Lord Lovell has been … very much affected by what happened to late, good King Richard. When he arrived here yesterday and saw - he was in a bad state, and swore in my presence to never leave him again. I - I don`t think he has left the coffin alone for even a moment since then.”

Cecily looked at him, trying to digest this, then she nodded. “I understand. I will not be needing your assistance now.” The man bowed, and Cecily walked on into the chapel, towards the coffin. Her son`s coffin. She swallowed again, and was almost glad when her attention was distracted by a man who could only be Lord Lovell kneeling beside it. His forehead and both palms rested on its lid, and he was murmuring, although she could not hear what, hoped it were prayers. She almost hesitated to interrupt him, but after a short moment, she stepped towards him. “My lord.”

He did not react, and only when she had repeated her greeting a bit louder did he look up, and some surprise crossed his face. Slowly, he got up, came a few steps closer to her and bowed. “My lady.” His voice was hoarse. “I am glad to see you well.”

The conventional reply that so did she stuck in Cecily`s throat. He did not look well at all. His eyes, which she remembered as rather impressive from his time as her estate manager, were quite dull. He was far too thin, and what looked suspiciously like traces of vomit were on the front of his doublet and his shoes.

Cecily longed to tell him it was a disgrace to appear thus in public, much less at her son`s coffin, but she could not bring herself to. This man was clearly unwell. She could not even bring herself to send him away to give her some privacy. He had sworn never to leave Richard alone again …

Cecily gave him a forced smile. “I do hope you do not mind if I join you in prayer”, she said, but the words were nowhere near as sharp as they could have been, and Lord Lovell did not seem to notice anything was amiss about her tone of voice at all, simply nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

As Cecily knelt down and Lord Lovell copied her, resting his forehead against the coffin again, she forced down the thought that if his looks were any indication, he would soon lie in a grave next to Richard.


	5. 1490

Possibility 5: Richard III wins the Battle of Bosworth and marries Joanna of Portugal, who goes on to have a son in 1488 and another child two years later.

 

Richard was pacing up and down his chambers, murmuring to himself, dismissing everyone who tried to speak to him. So far, he had thrown two men out of the room and told the priest who was in attendance to focus on praying for his wife and unborn child, not to try and comfort him with lies.

The mood in the room was accordingly tense, and most of his courtiers had already fled with various excuses, from retiring early to going to pray themselves. Richard had waved them all off, and Francis had the feeling he had not even listened to what they had said.

Not even his small son Richard had been able to cheer him. He had sent for him a few hours earlier, but when the boy had started asking after his mama, he had gone pale and had let the nurse explain that his mama could not see him because she was having a little brother or sister for him.

Richard had only gone even more pale at that, and so it was left to Francis to entertain the excited little boy, and to assure him he would love his little sister or brother. If he understood this, he did not know, but it kept him from asking the visibly nervous Richard, and that was what mattered the most.

The boy had just fallen asleep and Francis handed him back to his nurse when Richard suddenly turned to him and asked, sharply: “How long can a birth even take?!”

Taking it to be a rhetorical question, Francis did not answer, but Richard clearly expected him to, giving an impatient snort. “Richard`s birth did not take that long. Or -” His voice became quieter, softer. “Neither did Ned`s. Did they?”

“Joanna will be fine, as will be your son”, Francis said calmingly, and Richard gave him an annoyed look. “I didn`t ask that!” Francis shrugged. “I cannot truly say these other births were any shorter.” This did nothing to calm Richard, and he aimed a kick at a chair before continuing: “Why does this take so damn long?!”

Since there was no answer to this, Francis said nothing, but Richard looked expectantly and slightly annoyed at him, so he searched for some subject to distract his friend, finally came up with: “What will you be calling your son?”

This worked. Richard`s expression cleared up a bit. “Joanna has suggested Alphonso after her father”, he said. “I thought about George.” “George it is, then”, Francis said, but Richard shook his head. “I thought I would name him that, but - if my lady wife survives this, I will let her pick our son`s name.”

Francis looked at him for a moment, feeling a grin forming on his face. This was so typical of his friend - to make such a concession in the middle of grumbling and snarling at people. “Prince Alphonso”, he said. “It`s …unique.”

He almost expected Richard to snarl at him not to mock his wife´s choices, but instead, his friend suddenly grinned at him. “I would hope you liked the name. After all, Alphonso will be your godchild.”

“What?” The word was out of his mouth before Francis could stop it. “But - what about the queen`s brother, he will certainly expect -” “And he`ll sent a representative”, Richard nodded. “You and him will both be his godfathers. Joanna quite agrees.”

Francis stared at him, quite lost for words, before he said, quitely, touched: “Thank you.” Richard looked at him for a moment, face unsmiling, before he said: “Don`t think I haven`t noticed you are the only one still here in this room with me while everyone else left. You deserve it.”

Francis opened his mouth, closed it again, and before he could think of anything to answer to that, Richard had already turned away, burst out. “That is provided this child is ever born. Why does this take so long?!”


	6. 1481 again

What really happened: Richard of Gloucester and Francis Lovell fight together at the Scottish borders.

 

Only when dawn broke did they see the havoc the night attack led by the Scots had caused. Several tents had burned down, some of their provisions had been stolen or spoiled, and bodies were lying everywhere, both of their own soldiers as well as of the Scots.

Richard was in a rage. “How could this even happen?!”, he roared at no one in particular as he gave orders for the camp to be cleaned and rebuilt. “Were our sentries in pay of the Scots?! Or were they simply lazy pigs? I want to know immediately who stood watch yesterday night, and if they are still in the camp, I will have them hanged!”

These orders were received with quiet deference, as everyone clearly understood that if they were to question the duke, they would find themselves in enormous trouble themselves. Hardly anyone even dared addressing him,and even Francis feared he would be snarled at when he came to ask if Richard had any particular orders for him.

Having been slightly injured during the fighting of the night, the surgeon had given him a sling so he could rest his bruised shoulder, and advice not to do anything too strenuous the next few days.Francis thought it was the most idiot advice that anyone could possibly give him under the circumstances, but since his shoulder hurt, he tried to heed it nonetheless, and was savagely glad he had killed the man who had caused this. He would not be harming anyone else anymore.

Unfortunately, having this satisfaction did not change the fact he was as useless as the dead Scots in helping clean up and re-establishing their defenses, and so, after a while of watching the activity of everyone else, he could stand it no longer and went to his rather stressed-looking friend to ask for tasks.

Richard was snarling at soldier for something when Francis approached him, and he was still growling after dismissing him as he turned around to face Francis. “There are idiots everywhere”, he growled. “Sometimes I think they have not the brain God gave a sheep!” Francis recoiled slightly - trying to talk to Richard while he was in this mood was not a good idea - but before he could leave, the duke`s face cleared up somewhat. “Are you feeling better?” Without waiting for an answer, he went on: “You did well tonight. That was quite impressive what you did when you could only use your left arm.” Francis shrugged, then flinched. “It was that or letting one of those damned Scots kill me. And I was not about to give them that satisfaction.”

At that, Richard grinned. “Now if only some of the idiots among my men had your guts, we`d have conquered Scotland by now.” He paused, then said: “I`ll have to make sure their discipline does not falter after this. If I find those damn sentries … probably drinking on duty!” “Or paid by the Scots”, Francis said, and Richard nodded. “I am going to make quite sure no one thinks that this is worth it or will gain them more than a sling around their neck. And of course I will have to show them that it is worth supporting me.” He paused. “I`ve been wanting to reward you anyway, you`re one of the few with your wits about you here.”

“Thank you?”, Francis said, uncertainly, and Richard laughed. “Don`t sound so delighted. I`m going to make you a knight barronet. For service to the crown and saving the Duke of Gloucester`s sanity.”

Francis stared at him, but Richard did not seem to notice he had said anything out of the ordinary, went on. “Of course, I can only do that when everything is clean and safe here again, and at the speed these men are going, that will be never. You`d think there was never an attack before!” And with that, he went away to bark at a nearby soldier who seemed to be loitering rather than working, leaving Francis staring after him.

**Author's Note:**

> As my other fics are, this is in "The White Queen" and "The Sunne in Splendour" fandoms not because it is inspired by them, but because there are practically no other fandoms to post it in.


End file.
